Today I took my middle son, Anthony, to his first Solo and Ensemble Festival. For those of you who were not band geeks in middle and high school, Solo and Ensemble, often pronounced by band geeks as “Soloemsemble”, is the yearly festival where musicians are judged on their playing. They can enter as either a solo or with an ensemble of 2-4 players. They play their piece for the judge, who then gives them a score, a “1” being the best and all the way down to a “4”, which is not good. Medals go to those who receive a “1” or a “2”. Medals are then put onto high school varsity jackets and end up being stored in cedar chests along with other memorobilia from the past. My poor medals are stashed in such a place, only coming out during nostalgic times.
Anyhoo, Anthony went for his first time today as an 8th grader, something new because we only went in high school. I had taken Zachary a few years ago and was pleased to find out that it is still held at Livonia Franklin High School where I went for Soloensemble. (I’m using the band geek version from here on out.) The school is still freakishly enormous and other than fashions changing somewhat, it was like stepping back through a time warp to 1990. There were still the same shrieky girls running around with medals, woodwinds, and sheet music, still the same surly-looking teenage boys, who were most likely soloists, since they weren’t talking to anyone else, and the same flower-bearing parents with freshly-purchased carnations from the kiosk in the hallway. I never quite understood the flower thing. This wasn’t a grand performance in front of a huge audience. Heck, my mother never even came to Soloensemble to watch me play, much less bought me a flower for getting a medal, but there they are, all the same.
Anthony was nervous, and understandably so. While he’s a good player, his practice regimine leaves much to be desired and I think that was starting to hit him as he saw the hundreds of kids inside, even more so when we walked into the warm-up room and he heard all of the other trumper players. His two other trio members arrived shortly after we did, as did their band teacher, a wonderful, old-school band teacher like I used to have, the kind who will scream holy heck at you and crack the baton on the music stand, but will then congratulate you like there’s no tomorrow when you do well.
Their teacher led them through some warm-ups and then left to go and attend to running things. The boys practiced while we parents made small talk and waited for our turn. We walked into the performance room and it all came flooding back: the tension, the butterflies in my stomach, the nervousness, and I wasn’t even going to play! The judge was wonderfully nice to the boys and gave them some sound advice, “We have a special on air today: it’s free! Fill up those lungs and don’t be afraid!” When they had finished, she actually picked up her own trumpet and played through the piece with them once to show them how they could improve it. I wish I’d had judges like her when I went through Soloensemble!
When it was over, we packed up the trumpets and waited for the rating. A “2”! Very good for first timers. They were happy and proud as they got their medals and the other boys pinned them onto their jackets. Anthony kept his in its little envelope (those haven’t changed in 20 years either!) and showed it to his dad when we got home. He was a bit worn out from the nerves, but pleased with himself.
While he doesn’t know how far he’s going to go with band, I’m really glad that he had that experience and I was happy to share it with him. It brought back of lot of happy memories. My band years were some of the happiest of my life. Music gave me an outlet from my disfunctional home life; it gave me discipline and a feeling of accomplishment when I nailed a difficult piece or succeeded in securing first chair, drum major, or a spot in the All-State band. It’s something that I still carry with me to this day and I hope my boys will find that same joy in their band years.
